Mistaken Words: Death of Dreams
by neekabe
Summary: Set between chapter 17 and 18 of Morganeth's


The Death of Dreams Title: The Death of Dreams  
Author: neekabe  
Rating: pg-13  
Notes: This is another side story to Morganeth's story Mistaken Words dealing with what happened to Heero between chapter 17 and 18. This is the reason he decided to get up close and personal with alcohol poisioning ^_^   
Please note also that Morganeth's story is in fact a 1xR, and that if there's anything Mistaken Words should have taughts us is to remember to get the whole story before making assumptions =P   
If there's any doubt, take a look at Picture Perfect, which describes events that will actually happen ^_^   
  
  
**The Death of Dreams **   
  
  
_

When all we wanted was the Dream  
To have and to hold that precious little thing...  


_-Sarah McLachlan, Wait   
  
  
How much would you give to save the world? Would you give your fortune? Your life? Or simply your happiness? At one time he had believed that he would give everything without a second thought, his life wasn't worth that much, he would gladly sacrifice whatever it took for the good of the world. At one point he had given everyting, and it had been so easy... With that kind of sense of duty it was easy to give up something to small as friendship. After all he was still alive, he could find that old life once again, everything would work out fine in the end.   
  
That had been 3 long years ago.   
  
Now he knew better, it would have been far easier to die, than to be forced to live like this. He flopped down on the couch, sprawling against the hard cushions, allowing himself a rare moment of self-pity.   
  
Even Ash was gone now, this idiot mission had driven everyone away; his old friends, the ones who he had thought understood what the mission, what peace was worth, and his new friend, the one who seemed to see something else. No one else had even tried to approach him in the beginning, until that man had waltzed up and inserted himself into Heero's life. Now, in spite of everything, he trusted Ash. He... liked Ash.   
  
The far wall caught his eye and he smiled slightly. It was the only colour in the house, Ash had decided that his house had been far to bare and utilitarian to be habitable, so he had taken it upon himself to 'brighten the place up.' Somehow he had managed to dredge up a few pictures of the two of them, as well as some photos of Heero alone. He recognized one of them as his ID picture, and a few others that were obviousally screene shots from security cameras. Heero could still remember the day Ash had come in, pictures in hand, apparently expecting to be stopped as he was woefully unprepared for the job. He had been forced to rely on what was available to post the pictures to the wall; a few pieces of tape, a couple of safety pins, one picture had been sewn to another with a few crude stitches. Ash was nothing if not inventive.   
  
The wall was the one area of chaos in the otherwise perfectly orderly room, and Heero had the great amusement of seeing the look on Ash's face when he had returned the next day to find the pictures still up. Now he looked at the display with an almost painful melancholy. When did this place feel so empty, damnit? Why did he miss them now? He could no longer fight back the growing longing for the way things were, for the teasing and companionship of being around someone who _knew _you... for the way she made the nightmares go away.   
  
He heaved himself off the couch to pace the room. He needed to do something, to distract himself. These were dangerous thoughts. He could not afford to dwell on things tonight, not when there was no one around to save him from himself. Deep in his mind, a tiny part of him was whispering the answer to the memories; just a drink or two, just enough to dull the pain... Lost in the haze of the alcohol, he would no longer have to think about these things. It would make all the loneliness go away. But Ash was not here. There was no one to watch his back while he was out, no one to stop him from taking that one drink to many. Heero could not risk it now, not when he still had the chance to go back. When this was all over, he could just find a way to talk to them. He could tell them everthing and things woudl go back to normal. He still had a life waiting for him. That was a dream he refused to deny. He would not die with them still thinking he had betrayed them.   
  
He needed a distraction from that voice.   
  
He wandered into the kitchen, puttering around, cleaning the already shining countertops. Searching for something that would fill the void. He flicked in the radio, more for the sound than anything else. The sense of someone else in there. The DJ was rambling on about the defeat of the local sports team, but the words were unimportant. There was sound, something other than the hum of the electronics, but that wasn't enough, he still felt restless, craving some unknown stimulus.   
  
Damnit why now did he suddenly decide to be a people-person?! He slammed his hand into the counter-top. _Maybe it's because this is the first time you've been truly alone since you realized the benefit of allies. You finally realized it's not practical to work alone. You're human and you _miss _your _friends.   
  
Damned voice.   
  
He eventually found himself settled in the spare room, settled in front of his labtop, fingers hovering over the keys. He would just make sure they were all still alive, still alright. Maybe that would help him settle. He quickly hacked into the security systems for the base, flicking through the images from the various cameras, searching for familiar faces.   
  
He found the other pilots easily, feeling his heart ease slightly as he confirmed that everyone was doing fine, but even if he didn't admit it to himself, they were not the reason for his search.   
  
He eventually found _her_ in a hallway, talking with Trowa, who was smiling slightly as they walked together. She was fine. He felt a surge of relief at that discovery. surprised how good that made him feel. Dante hadn't lied. Relena was okay. He had something to return to. He tracked her progress down the hallways, content with simply watching her. Eventually he figured she was heading to the medical wing. Even better. They were making sure there were no problems occurring from being drugged for so long. He quickly flipped ahead to the room where he knew from experience she would be examined.   
  
It was dark. He frowned, suddenly concerned, that wasn't right. A light flared as someone lit a candle, he peered into the screen trying to make out the room in the faint light. Slowly more candles were lit, and Heero stopped breathing.   
  
The examination table in the center of the room was covered with what looked like a white silk sheet, it shimmered under a dusting of rose petals. At its center lay a white and red rose, their stems encircled by a golden ring, diamonds gleaming in the soft light of the many candles. He forced himself to look away, scanned the room for the doctor. He looked nervous, fidgeting with his coat, his hair._ No..._   
  
In the grainy image of the security camera, he saw the door open, saw Relena's gasp of surprise, her hand coming up to her mouth, eyes wide. He saw the doctor drop to one knee in front of her, in front of the table... He saw the doctor take her hand...   
  
With a strangled cry he slamed the lid of the laptop shut, not even daring to take the time to shut it down. He didn't want to know, couldn't bear knowing. His hands shook as he stared at the closed lid. The dream was dead.   
  
He shook his head, closed his eyes before slumping forward, supporting his head with one hand. Suddenly he felt old. To old for this game. He had tried so hard to believe that things would be the same, but time never stopped. They had moved on, leaving him behind, still fighting a war they had won years ago. He should be there with them, living the reward of what they had done. He had never wanted the white-picket fence, and perfect family life, he just wanted his own little dream of peace and a chance at the normal life their actions had allowed for everyone but himself.   
  
He just wanted to have been the one presenting the ring, instead of standing off to the side, alone, watching his dream die.   
  
He groped blindly in the desk drawer for the bottle he knew was there. His eyes still closed, he raised the bottle to his lips, craving that elusive numb oblivion.   
  
What would you sacrifice for peace? Your happiness? Or simply your life?   
  
  
  



End file.
